He had not been there many moments when he heard a cry above, and, looking upward, saw the dwarf had returned to the edge of the bluff.
The dwarf seemed astonished when he saw the boys had reached shore, and he sent a stone whistling down at them.
Frank dodged the missile, and then, with a fresh feeling of strength, hastened up the rocks toward the top of the bluff.
Apollo saw the boy coming and immediately took to his heels, quickly disappearing from view.
Finding the dwarf had escaped, Frank turned back, lifted Harry in his arms, and again mounted the rocks.
He reached the top and bore his friend to a place where he could rest on some short grass where he was sheltered from the sunlight.
Then Frank looked for Harry’s injury.
Rattleton had been struck on the head by a stone, which had cut a short gash in the scalp, and from this blood was flowing.
“It doesn’t seem very bad,” said Frank, as he examined the wound. “I rather think it stunned him, and that is all. He was not under water long enough to drown.”
Frank took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrung it out, intending to bind up Harry’s head with it.